A Mother's Heart
by momofthreegrls
Summary: When Jarrod is injured, Victoria thinks back to when her oldest son was a small child.


A Mother's Heart

_Victoria pulled the small rag out of her apron pocket and wiped her sweaty brow. The wind picked up and dust flew about, coating the already dirty piece of cloth with particles of tan clay. She couldn't remember the last time it'd rained. A month? Perhaps more? _

_"Mama?"_

_She felt a small hand tug at her dress and looked down at her young son. Piercing blue eyes, so much like her husband's looked back at her._

_"Is it lunch time?"_

_"Just about, honey," she told him. __She put the towel back in her pocket as the baby inside her kicked sharply. "You're going to have a little brother, I just know it." _

_Jarrod smiled, happy at the prospect of having a playmate. Ever since they'd moved to this place called Stockton, he'd been lonely. With their small house, just barely big enough for the three of them such a distance from town, there hadn't been many opportunities for playmates. He walked by his mother's side as she led him into the house and watched as she poured water from the pitcher into a basin. He reached up and dipped his hands into the lukewarm liquid. Victoria picked up the soap and gently began to wash her son's hands. Jarrod grimaced when the soap rubbed up against the tender right one. _

_"Sorry, honey," she said. Tears welled up in her eyes at the still healing wound. A few days earlier, bored, the small boy entertained himself by running in circles around the tiny house. When he stopped, dizziness set in and he accidentally touched the stove trying to steady himself. _

_"This'll help." She carefully dabbed the ointment on the wound and wrapped the boy's hand with a clean bandage. As he sat down at the table, she went to the cabinet and pulled out a cloth covered plate, a clean dish and a knife. Setting them down on the table, she went back to the cabinet for the butter. _

_"It's a wonder this butter doesn't spoil as hot as it is. One day, we'll have an icebox. Then we'll have cold butter and milk."_

_"And a big house with an indoor privy?" Jarrod gave his mother a hopeful look. _

_Victoria nodded. "The house will have white pillars out front, a stable full of horses, acres of fruit trees and be filled with lots of brothers and sisters for you." _

_"Ever I get a horse, I'm gonna name him Jingo," remarked the boy._

_"Jingo?" she asked._

_Jarrod nodded. "It's the sound Papa's money makes in his pocket."_

_Victoria shook her head and laughed. "You can name your horse whatever you want, son." She turned away to look out the window. "Let's hope there's a lot of jing, jing, jing when your papa comes back home." She noted her son's forlorn face. "He'll be home tomorrow," she promised. _

_Jarrod ate the last bite of his bread and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. _

_"Napkin," she reminded. She smiled as the boy neatly folded up the cloth and laid it back next to his empty plate. _

_He stood up, walked to her side and leaned down close to her swollen stomach. __"Baby brother, come out so we can play," he said._

_Victoria chuckled. "It's going to be a while before this baby is going to be big enough to play."_

_She put her arm around her son's shoulders and pulled him into a close embrace._

_"Mama, you gonna love me after this baby is born?" he asked, his voice cracking. __She leaned down and kissed the mass of black curls. _

_"Son, don't you know? A mother's heart grows bigger with each baby so that there's enough room for her to love them all." _

"Mother?"

The distinctive baritone of her eldest son woke Victoria from her dream. She opened her eyes and looked over at the bed where piercing blue eyes, lined with wrinkles brought on by time and responsibilities met hers.

Jarrod tried to sit up but the bandages wrapped around his ribs prevented him from bending. He frowned and sank back against the pillow.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Jingo threw you. Dr. Merar says you've got a couple of broken ribs and a concussion."

Jarrod closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. "That would explain the dizziness," he remarked.

"And Jingo?" he asked, concerned.

"He's fine, barely a scratch on him."

"That old boy's luckier than me, it seems," said Jarrod.

Victoria chuckled.

"I don't see anything particularly funny about broken ribs and a concussion," remarked Jarrod.

"No, there certainly isn't anything funny about that." She reached out and gave his large, calloused hand a gentle squeeze. "I was thinking about when you were four and wanted to name your horse Jingo. Do you remember?"

"Vaguely."

"Ever I get a horse, I'm gonna name him Jingo. It's the sound Papa's money makes in his pocket," her voice mimicking the childish words of her now grown son.

"That's the sound that it made." Jarrod shrugged and instantly regretted it. The pain in his ribs made him wince.

Victoria smiled and patted her son's arm. "Well, it's a good thing he came home that next day with a pocketful." She looked around the room and said quietly, "It was enough to buy us those fruit trees that, after the drought ended, provided for our needs in more ways than one. Your father could buy more stock, more land, a house with pillars and even that indoor privy you asked for."

Jarrod let out a chuckle. "And eventually, I got my Jingo."

"Hungry?" she asked

"Famished," he replied.

"I'll go see what Silas has in the kitchen." Victoria reached over and straightened Jarrod's sheet before standing up. "Be back soon." She walked across the room and stepped through the doorway as Jarrod called, "Mother."

Victoria turned to look back over her shoulder, "Yes?"

"You were right."

She gave him a curious look.

"A mother's heart does grow bigger with each child so that there's enough love for them all."

"Mothers are always right," she replied, her voice cracking. She quickly left the room but not before her son saw the tears forming at the corners of her eyes.


End file.
